Imagine: Going to summer camp with Patrick, who sneaks into the girls' cabin at night to sleep with you.
Patrick was probably the most clumsy stealth artist ever, but he made it work. After prying open the window nearest to your bunk with his pocket knife, he slid through silently, closing the window behind him before walking over to you on long, spindly legs.
He'd always watch you for a moment, admire the way the shadows contoured your features. The moon always highlighted your beauty in a way that the sun just could never capture. He loved seeing you at night.
Patrick knelt down, sliding his boots off and shoving them under the bed, eyes unblinking and unmoving. Your face was so fucking pretty when your eyes were shut, he could watch you sleep forever, which to anyone else would have been about as fun as watching paint dry.
The brunette shrugged off his over shirt and leaned above you, shadow cloaking you entirely. His cold hand covered your mouth as he slid in beside you, "It's me."
You instantly ceased your struggle, head falling back into the pillow with relief.
Pulling his hand away, you pinched him aggressively, "Stop doing that!" You hissed quietly, and Patrick's hand flew back to your face.
"Shut up," he wiggled for a moment before settling in with you, "and roll over."
Brows rising, you smirked, "Sure, whatever, just be gone before the sun comes up."
You'd never admit it, but you loved the way Patrick's body just completely swallowed yours, arms caging you in. "Nice and tight." His forearm pressed against your neck briefly and Patrick chortled, nose pressing into your hair.
He let out a long sigh and his breath travelled down your scalp and to your neck. The hair on your arms stood up and you shifted, pressing back into the teen, who didn't react, but his grip tightened around your waist like an anaconda constricting it's prey.
The whole camp woke to the sound of about thirty girls screaming in unison at the sight of a boy in their cabin the next morning.
